Snake Bite
by Aquarius Dragon
Summary: A series of brutal murders of young women plague the city, and when a mysterious customer shows up in Devil May Cry, Dante finds himself trapped within the walls of lust filled dreams…unable to break free. Currently Editing.
1. Chapter 1: Grisly Murders

**Snake Bite**

**Summary**: A series of brutal murders of young women plague the city, and when a mysterious customer shows up in Devil May Cry, Dante finds himself trapped within the walls of lust filled dreams…unable to break free.

**Rating**: Written for Mature readers, as this story includes mentions of Violence, Gore, use of Strong Language, and Mature Sexual Themes, along with a bit of Mature but silly humour.

**Disclaimer**: Devil May Cry and its characters are the property of the creators, so I am not making any money off this story.

**AN:** This story is very much like the Video Games or Anime. Hence, it occurs in the Canon Universe as Dante will take this case just like he usually does. Therefore, the story will feature a couple of original characters, as it will be treated as a separate case. This is not a Dante x OC story, because every female character should not immediately translate into the Godforsaken Mary-sue or some random romantic pairing.

This story does not incorporate any sort of character bashing whatsoever. All such instances are just crude humour on my part.

**Chapter One**: Grisly Murders

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"Dead naked women… this is clearly not what I usually have in mind," said the white-haired man, soaking under the heavy downpour in the alleyway.

The wind was picking speed and his dark bluish long coat was flying in the wind. It had been raining for the past couple of weeks. Sometimes it was just a light spit easing off the building humidity, but these days it had been raining down heavily.

"Dante," said the tall woman with long blonde hair standing behind him. She was wearing light blue jeans and a black shirt underneath a small, brown coloured leather jacket. Her jacket was glazed with wet and so was her hair.

"Well…" Dante, leaning on his knees looked back at the woman who was the spitting image of his mother and frowned. "What am I exactly supposed to do here?" he said, pointing the long thin barrel of his gun at the bare body of a young woman dumped just next to a dumpster.

The woman sighed rubbing her shoulders. "Enzo got us a good case. The families think…"

"Think what, Trish?" Dante said harshly, cutting her off.

He quickly got to his feet and shoved the gun back into his dirty brown pants. His face was running with rain water. He wiped his face on his coat's sleeve and looked at Trish again.

"How did that fat-bellied moron manage to pull this detective crap on me?" Dante said, pointing his hands at himself.

Trish gave him a long hard look and leaned on the rough wall of the apartment just behind them. She looked up at the pearly moon shining through a tiny little hole in the clouds gathering into a thick pile in the sky.

The small alleyway was between two shabby looking apartment buildings under the overcast sky. The squalor of the slums meant little to the leading class who lived far away in the suburbs. Many suffered, cried, and even died in these unpleasant conditions.

Dante folded his arms across his chest, looking at two hookers flicking their wide-open coats' collars up at the two passersby's just across the street. It was past 12 am, and usually the streets were filed with prostitutes and pimps. But in the wake of recent murders, police had started patrolling the town and no one was allowed to roam around this late at night.

A police tape was stretched across the entrance of the alleyway and a short, pudgy detective was standing next to a couple of police officers close to the police car. So far, this second murder was a hush-hush affair.

He brought his gaze back to the body. She was a young woman around her late twenties. Her body was rock hard from the chill in the air and the rigor-mortis that had already settled in.

Her golden hair was spread over her right cheek and her whole body was pale, glistering with the rain drops trailing down to the floor. Her green eyes glazed with rain water were wide-open, shining at the bulb's light.

Dante tore his eyes away and leaned against the back door of the pub, making his eyes follow the thin trails of rainwater on the sodden ground.

"Look Dante," Trish said, trying to meet Dante's elusive grayish eyes, "you were going to end up on the streets if Enzo had not done something."

Dante snorted, palming his wet face.

"What more do you want then?" Trish said curtly, raising her hands.

Dante brought his gaze back to hers, unfolding his arms. "What more do I want? If anyone started paying attention to our amazing detective abilities, we will get screwed, all right?"

Thunder flashed like a blue flame in the sky and suddenly the heavy rain mellowed down to just a steady drizzle. A thin plume of smoke was steadily billowing into night sky from the roof of a twenty four hour restaurant just a block away.

Trish's face cracked into a sarcastic smile. "Are you afraid of that you are not good enough in these things, my son?" Trish teased, maintaining her meaningful smile.

"Don't be so cheeky, mom or your son might just spank you for being impolite," Dante, putting full stress on mom, threw an askew smile at Trish.

"You have fake papers, a genuine letter requesting investigation from both the families," Trish said, holding up all five fingers of her right hand, "so what's the problem?"

Dante hunched under his coat, looking at his warm smoke-like breath in the air. "I am not a fucking detective," he said calmly, breathing out the warm air in his lungs.

Trish clapped her hands together. "Is that all?"

"I think you are taking this a little too lightly," Dante said, pulling up his coat's collar, "I have no experience with this sort of work, so I will not be able to do anything for these families. And besides… we don't even know if this is the work of a demon," he added, running his hand through his jaw length silvery hair, shining like threads of silver around his face.

Getting angry at Dante's persistence to drop this case, Trish turned her head at the round detective slowly making his way towards them. He sloshed through the muddy alley, stopping for a few seconds at each and every window.

Dante cocked his brow at him and then turned his eyes slightly at the angry sounds from the two hookers being dragged into the police car. The man was almost round with three tires around his huge belly. The ham-fisted detective hitched himself further up to the window pane and then peered inside.

"Ah…" he sighed out, and then clumsily made his way towards Dante and Trish. He stopped at the last window. "So, have you found anything interesting, private-eye?"

Dante pushed himself off the hard door. "I was waiting for you, sir," he said in an artificially unconvincing voice, smiling somewhat politely. The smile seemed to crack his stone-cold-sober face just a little.

"Call me Blake," the oddly oversized officer said, inching around the dumpster to get close to the body.

"From what I have heard, this looks the same as before," Dante said slowly, bending his legs to kneel close to the body.

"Hmmm…yes," Blake said, passing his hand over his few frizzled hair. Most of them had probably been taken by age. Now he was left with just a small round patch at the top of his thinning head.

Trish zipped up her jacket. It was strangely cold. Even a demon like her could sense something strange lingering in the air. Dante, keeping up his stubborn attitude had yet to notice it.

"This is the second murder in the city, and it looks like we will not be getting anything from here as well," Blake said lowly, easing to his feet.

Dante lifted his head to look up at Blake. "What do you mean?"

Blake fished out a handkerchief from his pocket. "You have not seen the first murder site then?" he asked, giving a light dab to a small cut on his left wrist.

"No." Dante stole a furious look at Trish. "I was hired recently," he said, returning his gaze to the body.

"I see," Blake sighed out and shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. "The first body was dumped in an alleyway about seven blocks away." He pointed his hand outwards.

"At the back of a dance club as I remember," Dante said, pulling his leather glove on his right hand.

Blake nodded in response. "Yes, and she looked very similar."

Dante gently brushed a few golden bangs aside and turned her head slightly to look at small wispy marks on her neck. "She looks very white. I don't think there is a single drop of blood in her entire body," he said, sounding serious at the site of small black veins looking dead and web-like on her entire body.

"This is what the postmortem report tells us as well," Blake agreed, looking back at the police car and the ambulance that had just stopped in front of the alleyway.

Dante pulled his hand back and ran his eyes over the mud around the body. "Does it say how this could have happened?"

"Sadly no," Blake said in reply, rubbing his hands together.

"What are these?" Dante asked, pressing his fingers slightly over two puncture wounds where the girl's neck and jaw ran together. "Is that a," he said, stopping for a second, "a snake bite?"

"Yes, the girl before her had them as well," Blake answered, stooping his back to take a good look at the two perfectly round black holes.

"These fangs seem huge," Dante said in a voice that had a great note of surprise, "but they are very close to each other."

"What are you suggesting?" Blake asked, pulling himself to a slightly straight position with just a little droop to his back.

"Was the first girl poisoned?" Dante asked quickly, looking at Blake from the corner of his eyes.

"No, but it would seem that some blood might have been lost this way," Blake said, looking curiously at Dante.

Dante took in some fresh air. "The marks are too close," he said thoughtfully, "the snake could not have been that large, but the holes are pretty big…"

"The pathologists have yet to determine what kind of snake it is," Blake explained, looking over to Trish who was standing quietly next to the dumpster. "Sometimes I really hate this job for its dubious reasoning methods," he added lost in thought.

"It could not have been a large snake," Dante said, getting to his feet.

"Really?" Blake asked, wiping his eyes.

"Large snakes are not poisonous, so they do not have fangs," Dante said, stooping to flick mud off his pants. "If that was the case, then there should have been a whole lot of teeth marks around her neck."

"You watch animal planet… nice hobby. Me? I can't get over beer and late night television," Blake said, softly laughing afterwards.

"I have my interests," Dante said awkwardly, stepping away from the body. "By the way, you said the first girl lost some blood this way. It could be possible that she lost all of it through these wounds."

"That is not possible," Blake said, shaking his hand. "The report suggests the wounds were made very quickly."

"What?" Dante asked, wearing a grim look on his face.

"Well, according to the doctor, whatever bit her pulled out the teeth very quickly," Blake said to Dante, pulling out a cigarette pack from his coat, "so it is not even remotely possible that it managed to suck her dry in mere 15 to 20 seconds."

"I see," Dante said, cupping his chin.

"Okay boys, take her away," Blake said to the men slowly making their way through the alleyway carrying the body bag.

The men stuffed the body into the bag, and carried it out of the alley.

"Want some smoke?" Blake asked, holding out the pack in his hand.

"Thanks, I don't smoke," Dante said with a wave of his hand.

"A non-smoking detective…hmmm…you must be the first of your kind," Blake said, drawing on the cigarette clamped between his lips.

Dante smiled in reply, feeling a strange chill steal itself slowly over his entire body. The air around him felt menacing and cold.

"All right, see you around then," Blake said, stretching out his hand. "If you want to see the post-mortem report then you can come and see me in the office."

"Sure, thanks," Dante said, shaking Blake's hand.

Trish's eyes followed Blake, until he stepped into his car and left.

"Still not interested?" Trish said, eyeing the hard look settled on Dante's face.

Dante remained quiet for a few seconds. "Let's go and see the report tomorrow, then we can decide," he said, taking quick steps out of the quiet alley.

It was past one am. The streets were quiet and the clouds were rolling out, leaving a clear sky studded with countless stars behind.

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	2. Chapter 2: Missing Girls

**Chapter Two**: Missing Girls

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The sun rose bright and high above the squalid streets of this neglected part of town. The Devil May Cry flashy sign had blown several fuses, and now only the Cry sign flashed after several long seconds.

The shop was closed at this time of the hour, as the sun had just burst through the night and only a hue of red was visible at the far end of the sky. Shafts of yellowish light traveled down to the ground, glancing on the puddle of open gutter just next to love planet. The authorities had yet to take any notice of it.

Three hookers were lazily walking down the lane, exhausted by the night's ordeal of hide and seek with the police cars. One of them giggled, showing the total amount of cash they had made over the night. The other two shared in the joy of money making. It was enough to keep them off the streets for weeks.

Their soft giggles wafted to keen ears standing under the hank of silvery hair. Dante stood behind the partly open window, looking up at the light spreading across the sky. A good night sleep seemed like a week old memory. He tossed and turned in his bed all night, trying to make up his mind about this case.

He pressed his head against the window, letting the soft morning draft cool his body. The trickles of water on his bare chest tingled under the gentle assault of air. He was in a habit of taking a quick shower in the morning, and today was no different.

Dante palmed his face, wiping away a few drops from the corner of his eyes. He cocked his eyes up at the crashing sound from the bathroom up stairs. Trish had done something again.

"Dante…Ow…" Trish shouted, limping down stairs with a hand on her hip.

Dante thrust his hands in his pant's pockets, still looking out into the distance. "What did you do this time?" he asked, slightly knitting his brow.

"Your bathroom will kill me," she snarled hopping down the last stair.

"Yeah I am sure, and my toilet will rape you someday…Anything else?" he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Trish leaned on the handrail, gritting her teeth. "I fell on your bathroom floor and almost broke my hip," she said, soothingly massaging her hip. "But the way it hurts, I think I really have broken something this time."

"Really?" Dante asked, sounding amused. "Don't worry," he said, keeping the note of tease in his voice, "I am sure it will heal…eventually."

Trish straightened her back with a loud cracking sound, and slowly walked for the sofa lying close to Dante's self-made micro-demon wall-museum.

"Wow that was loud." Dante chuckled, pulling his head back. "You are getting old… the clone of my mom," he teased, taking a few steps for his shirt draped around the office chair.

Trish cautiously lowered herself on the sofa and pursed her red-painted lips. "Your childish teasing has no effect on a demon like me," she huffed, leaning back into the comfy sofa.

"Yeah whatever. Just keep your over-sized butt off of my tiles next time," Dante said straightforwardly, slipping the light blue t-shirt on.

Trish jumped to her feet, looking livid with anger. "Oversized butt?" she repeated, contorting her face as much as she could.

Dante looked lazily at her. "Don't over-react Trish, this isn't the first time you have broken something in my bathroom. Last time, it was the sink," he accused, keeping his tone flat.

"It is not my fault you are so poor," Trish shot back, lowering her sharp tone down just a little bit.

"To think that papa Mundas had taught you some bathroom manners…I guess I was wrong," he said honestly, flopping down on the chair sitting just next to the giant pool table.

Trish opened her mouth to say something when the door creaked open. A fat man stepped into the shop with a huge smile pasted on his unshaven, round face. His round belly jiggled as he clumped for the half-demon who cringed his face at the sight of him.

"Finally found some spare time, eh fat boy?" Dante asked pulling rebellion stabbed through the wall down onto his lap.

The round man sent a toothy grin Dante's way that was met with a genuine scowl.

"Are you still mad, Dante?" the man asked, stepping back a little at the shimmer of Dante's sharp blade.

Dante, letting out a sarcastic chuckle turned rebellion in his hand. "Now why would I be mad at you Enzo? I guess you took the case without asking me, and sent me off for some wild detective work by hogging all that cash just like a pig that you are," he ended with a wry smile. "Why would I be bothered?"

Enzo felt a dry lump in his throat. He turned his eyes around and looked at the unsightly demons Dante had skewered to the walls like ghastly Halloween party scares. Several Demons were missing lower bodies altogether.

Dante had just pinned them on the walls like trophies. Their skins were leathery and dry; even their jagged teeth looked like cutouts from a cereal box. But nevertheless, they still looked very real and very ugly.

Enzo always felt a chill clasp him whenever he entered the shop. And sometimes, he had unmistakably seen a shadow or two dancing under their remains. He never ventured into the shop when Dante was not around…it was just too frightening.

"Look Dante," Enzo began, sliding his gaze over Dante's large frown, "we are partners right?"

"You know what Enzo, I am not going to repeat something I have said about a million times before," Dante said, sticking his sword into the wooden floor, "Trish is wrecking havoc all over my place, and so, to cut the long chase short, I need that damn money… where is it?"

Trish got slowly to her feet, still feeling a stab of pain in her hips. "You are not thinking of returning it, are you?" she asked, locking her electric blue eyes with Dante's.

"That is none of anyone's business," he said with an air of finality and stood up, leaving the standing sword pinned to the ground. "It is my decision to make, not yours, or yours." He pointed at Enzo.

"You have not even seen the post-mortem report yet," she said in surprise, holding her ground.

"What difference will it make? I am sure they must have found the killer snake's name by now," he answered back, curling his fingers around the metallic handle of his father's keepsake.

Trish sighed and folded her arms. "Why don't you go and check it out first. If they have found something, then I will back off and you can return the money…deal?" Trish asked, weaaring a wisp of a smile on her face.

Dante looked at the demon who showed more than a passing resemblance to his late mother, and said, "Fine."

Enzo pulled his shabby cap down from his head and flicked off the dust at its crown. "I knew you would come around," he said, smiling.

Dante said nothing in reply. He grabbed his light bluish coat from the hanger, casting a brief glance at the kick knacks lumped together behind his drums and hastily slipped it on.

"I asked Enzo not to give you the money, Dante," Trish said unfolding her arms.

Dante's face showed a sudden flicker of amusement. "Really? Since when have you sided with this moron?" he asked, slipping his shiny guns under the hem of his pants.

Trish took a few paces towards Dante and stood next to him. "I knew you would do something rash, that's why," she said, playfully ruffling up his grey hair.

"Right," Dante said with the roll of his grey eyes and combed his hair with his long fingers into a perfect matted mess.

"I cleaned the car this morning, Dante. It is shining to perfection," Enzo said, clicking his fingers.

"That car cost me a fortune. There better not a single scratch on it, Enzo," Dante warned, walking for his sharp sword that still looked as new as the day his father gave it to him.

Enzo let out a nervous laugh. "Don't be silly Dante, now why would I do that?" Enzo said, scratching his messy noodle like hair.

"Because anything is expected of you," Dante said lowly, and pulled his sword out. Resting the sword on his arm like a spear, Dante clenched the handle in his hand. He aimed his sword at the giant dog's head just above his office chair and threw it like a boomerang.

Its sharp edge shimmered in the morning light glimpsing on its edges as it whirled forward with lightening fast speed, and slammed into the gaping mouth of the dead dog.

"Bull's-eye." Dante winked, curling up his lips into a smile. He stepped out of the office followed by the smiling, and overly impressed Trish.

Enzo squinted his eyes at the fresh blood dripping from the dog's mouth. He gulped down the air stuck in his throat, and ran out of the office when he heard a whining sound put out by the long dead demon dog.

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Dante remained pretty quiet through out the ride. A couple of times he asked Enzo to shut up and look ahead when he almost ran the car over an old lady crossing the road with a tiny prairie dog. He was apparently discussing latest fashion trends with Trish sitting merrily on the back seat.

He had yet to get his hands on the money but Enzo and Trish's plans for a shopping spree in that expensive mall had reached to unfathomable limits. Those two were getting on his nerves…

The streets were busy so Enzo could not put a spurt on and get out of the traffic blocked for about half a kilometre. When the road cleared, he increased the speed and then eased up near the police station.

They reached the station at quarter to ten, half an hour late than their scheduled time. Dante wanted to give Enzo a few heavy whacks for taking the wrong and long way around but he decided to let it go, and instead showed him a nasty frown as a future reminder.

The police station was literally at the good part of the city, where the supposedly upright citizens lived. The mayor had not bothered himself to open a branch at the unprivileged part of town, where criminals thrived and women were sold as cattle. There had been an upsurge of crime there in the recent month or so…the mayor had finally put his foot down.

But Dante knew what made him stomp his feet and scream like a little tramp on high on processed sugar, but there was no point in bringing that to the police's notice. The first murder was that of his close friend's daughter. He screamed murder and what not at the election campaign… the killer was yet to be found.

Dante stepped in through the front door, greeted by every female eye far and away. He always got all the attention. Even the male officers found him almost offensively good looking with his perfectly chiseled features, sharp grayish eyes, and lissome physique.

He exchanged a few nice words and plenty of smiles with the female officer at the entrance and placed his guns on the table. The officer looked at him with awe as he made his way to the short pudgy detected screwing himself around in his little three-wheeled chair just a couple of feet away.

The old detective looked at him, slightly wide-eyed with enthusiasm. "You made it," he said eyeing Dante's happy face suddenly turn a bit cautious, "a little late though."

Dante directed a quick annoyed look Enzo's way. "Sorry about that," he said quickly, "got stuck in traffic."

Blake waved his hand. "No need to apologize. Sometimes the traffic here can be quite the bitch," he commented, reaching for a pile of files on his desk. "Ah, this is the one. It arrived this morning." He pulled out a red file from the clutter of others on his messy desk and handed it over to Dante.

Dante opened the file and flicked through the three paged autopsy report. It was not what he was excepting.

"Not quite what you were expecting huh?" Blake's voice broke his disbelief. "It is the same old story… no one knows how these two girls died."

He placed the file on the table and stood tight-lipped, avoiding Trish's wide smile and Enzo's annoying gurgling giggles that they had won this round to get some much needed cash.

"Several girls had gone missing before and between the two murders," Blake said, holding out another file for Dante to take. "They have still not been found."

"You think they are connected?" Dante asked, taking the file from Blake's hand.

Blake slowly got to his feet, passing his hand over his sagging stomach. It looked like a giant, round doughnut. "We are not sure, but are definitely investigating into it."

Dante did not say anything. This really was beginning to look quite ghastly.

"You can take this copy home," he said, grabbing a large chocolate doughnut from the open doughnut box.

"Thanks," Dante said almost absentmindedly.

Blake brushed off a few crumbs from his shirt and spoke, "by the way, you are quite good with the ladies, young man."

Dante gave a cocky smirk in reply, casting a brief glance at the female officers around them, who returned his smile quite heartily.

"If you were an officer here, no woman would have done anything," he said honestly, giving a soft laugh just seconds after. "Anyway, you can get in contact with me any time."

"Thanks," Dante said, sensing his thoughts take flight …

"I have to get to work now, young man. See you around," he said, lumping down in his chair.

Trish took the file from Dante's hand and parted her lips in a full victory smile. "Let's go. And by the way, I win."

"Whatever," Dante shot back, and strode for the lady still smiling at him with his guns in her hands.

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	3. Chapter 3: Night Visit

**Chapter Three:** Night Visit

Rating Warning: Mild Sexual Content

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"You know what," Dante said, throwing the thick file on his messy table, "I think you have lost some of those lose screws in your head, Mom."

Trish leaned on the table cluttered with empty soda cans, pizza boxes, girly magazines, and other things below all that heap of trash.

"All I am asking that you should start investigating by questioning the families," she said with a lazy wave of her right hand, "that way we might find out more about the girls, and…"

"Let me correct myself," Dante said feigning innocence, "you have lost all the screws in your head, down MY toilet, which you broke yesterday."

Trish straightened her back with a loud long sigh. "You will not get anywhere without questioning the families."

Dante causally threw both his legs on the table, throwing a mountain of dirt stuck under his shoes on the sprawl of dirty magazines. "I have been doing things my way, way before you came into this world," he said, grabbing one of the magazines from the table.

Trish folded her arms across her chest, looking stern and rather fed up with Dante's, 'I want to do it my way' attitude. "And how did you manage it, because I am very very curious."

Dante sent a cheeky smile her way and crossed his legs. "You will find out soon enough. Right now, I just want to relax," he said, burying his nose in one of his magazines' filled with nothing but page after page of almost nude women, "I am already too depressed after seeing those dead women."

After finally realizing that it was a dead end with Dante and his huge thick sculled, but pretty much empty head, Trish swiveled around with a defeated sigh only to find a timid woman sticking her head through the partially open door.

"Can I help you?" Trish took two steps for the woman, who looked as if she had just been caught in broad day light jumping around in her knickers.

She pulled her head back and disappeared for a couple of seconds and then almost toddled through the main door, holding her purse tightly in her hands.

"Is…is this Devil May Cry?" she asked in a strange, choked back voice.

"Great, now we are getting costumers who cannot even read," Dante complained from behind the table, still busy with the nearly pornographic magazine. "Look sweetheart, today is Monday, but I am treating it like a Sunday, so come back tomorrow."

Trish flicked Dante an angry but quick glance, which was met with no apparent response from the Devil lost in his daily indulgence. Right now, he looked like a business man looking at the rise in the market shares. There was just a subtle smile playing about his lips… it was obvious that he looked happy.

Trish returned all her attention on the woman still standing next to the door, looking ready to bail out and run far far away from this dreadful place in the opposite direction.

"Yes it is," Trish answered back, feeling almost as happy as Dante that they were about to get another case.

"I came here to seek help," she began, clutching her purse in one hand, "you see, my sister has gone missing, and I…"

Dante slapped the magazine on the table. "Listen," he paused suddenly, taking a good hard look at the innocent looking woman, standing stiff so far away from him. She had a beautiful face, so beautiful that he could have sworn he had never seen anyone as beautiful as her.

Her dark brown almond shaped, almost black looking eyes looked like they had sunk in from illness. Dark circles under them bore a strange resemblance to mascara. Her shoulder length black wavy hair fell as tight curls around her child-like oval face.

She looked innocent, but his Devil senses told him she was a grown woman in her late twenties or probably early thirties. He sniffed her strange almost overpowering female scent lingering in the room.

"Listen," he repeated, taking in the scent again, feeling his vision go blurry for just a tiny part of a second, "babe…today is not a good day, and besides this isn't exactly a police station, you should try there."

The weirdly beautiful woman took long, quick steps for the huge ugly table and fished a black pearl necklace from her purse. "I have already gone to the police," she began breathlessly, looking at Dante with desperation, "but, I fear she might have been kidnapped by the killer. You have to help me. I can pay." She placed the necklace on the table.

Dante, still keenly looking at the woman lazily pulled his legs down from the table. He took the necklace in his hand and looked at it. It looked expensive.

"This is worth a fortune, and this is all I have," she said, putting her shaking hand to her soft chest.

Dante returned his half lusty half curious gaze to the woman, still looking at him pleadingly. He had to give in… even if it was just 'in the moment' kind of a decision.

# # # # # #

Dante was livid with anger, or as livid as he could have been. Yesterday he had taken up the girl on her offer for the case in exchange for the pearl necklace, and today, he was in some random house waiting in a lavishly set living room for the owners to show up. What had he reduced himself to?

He skittered his hand through those ever-grey hair and moved his sharp eyes around the room. The room had heavy curtains hanging down from a rod not more than two inches below the ceiling line. They were dark red, with even darker rose designs threaded on them.

They were drawn to let in the last light of the sun, dipping slowly below the horizon. The shadows of the trees in the wide garden were stretched out till his feet on the expensive looking rug. He moved his eyes just a little to look at his dusty boot marks - more like a trial of it - shining like a nasty brown surprise against the dark colour of the rug.

_Damn, and I had wiped my shoes at the entrance at least a dozen times_, he thought angrily, dropping his hand on the nice comfy sofa.

The cold steel of his trusty guns was eating into his back. It was due to the sudden drop in temperatures because of the recent rains. Trish urged like a doting mom that he should wrap himself in a woolen sweater or something, before he gave her one of those, "are you fucking kidding me?" looks.

Did she really think he needed a couple of sweaters on his body to keep him all warm and fuzzy? He was a demon - all right, maybe a half demon - but that still counted for something.

He had pure demon blood running through his veins, and the way his steel sword was growing over the past months, it was obvious that his mother's lingering traces were going away for good. But he didn't know how to feel about it. He turned his head a little to look at the demon again who was so reminiscent of his late mother.

_Well, almost_, he thought quickly, after his gaze lingered down just a bit to where her huge and openly visible cleavage was.

He had to say it; even if it was going to end up in another argument between them.

"Can't you dress properly for a change?" he asked suddenly, looking at the stunned expression on her fair face.

Her perfectly red painted lips pursed tightly and a lot of lines formed on her usually line-free forehead.

"Excuse me?" she said, slipping one leg over the other.

Dante pulled Ebony from under the hem of his pants and started dangling it between his forfinger and thumb. "You heard me. Do you always have to look like an expensive prostitute?" he commented, seeing how rapidly the colour rose in her cheeks and her contours contort as if she had been greatly offended by the demon's honesty.

She brought her hands down on the sofa hard, her jaw jutting out in anger. "I do not look like a prostitute," she hissed, defending herself.

"I am sorry," Dante said sarcastically, pointing the long slivery barrel at his equally sarcastic face, "are you arguing with me on this?" He raised his eyebrows high, as if she did not know the obvious.

Trish's nostrils flared up but she relaxed into the bouncy sofa. "Yes, of course, how wouldn't you know? You were brought up among prostitutes." The note of sarcasm in her voice was high and slightly condescending. But it was not enough to injure his over-inflated pride and ego.

"No, that was after my mother got chopped up. I had nowhere else to go, so, I started living over and under the warm bosoms of plenty of women. So much love. But what is your excuse?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow and putting his right leg over the left. "Too much American Pop, or are my porn-magazines your inspiration?"

Trish, slapping the sides of her thighs turned her head to look at him face to face. "What is your problem? And honestly, why should it even bother you what I wear?"

"You know, before this waiting gets any more weird, I am going to cut to the chase; you look like my Mom," Dante said, holding back the usual flow of sarcasm this time. "So, I don't want you looking like this, flashing your boobs and ass in my face twenty four seven. Get it, miss tight-prostitute-leather pants?"

Trish gasped loudly, her eyes widening that he didn't just venture such a bad statement about her two thousand five hundred dollar genuine leather pants. "This is designer wear."

"Great, I bet you bought one for Enzo as well. Now I will have two hookers in my office; one my Mom, and other a fat and probably over fifty widower," he held up two fingers, and then quickly slipped the gun back under his coat.

Trish's opened jaws looked slightly unhinged as she inhaled and exhaled noisily. "Shame on you Dante," she said finally, composing herself a little when she heard footsteps on the other side of the double door.

"Just put a paper bag on your head next time, when you decide to shake your gifts in my office," he said pulling his leg down. "At least then, I can have a shadow of a doubt that I am looking at something other than by biological Mother." Cadence

"It is the case isn't it?" Trish began, smoothing out some wrinkles on her dark brown sweater.

"No I don't think so," Dante said curtly, bending his attention on a snake painting hanging on the wall in front of him but about fifteen feet away. The heavy brush strokes of green and light green made the whole painting look green, even if there were other colours in it.

"I knew it," she paused, turning her blue eyes at him, "just do as I say, and everything will be fine."

Dante let out a chuckle that came out as a sarcastic, heavy snort. "Yeah… and when they figure out that I am not the guy I pretended to be on the phone, I will eat their fancy white concrete the next minute."

"It's marble, Dante."

"Hell if I care. The point is, I will have to act like a goody-goody scout boy, and not smash that guard's face in when he throws us out," he said, pointing his thumb at the door. "And when it does happen, it will of course be all your fault."

"Right, because I am the one who took on the case," Trish shot back, sensing a rise in Dante's anger. Maybe she finally struck a nerve.

"Listen you…" Dante began, raising his finger high when a man and a woman in their late fifties or early sixties walked in the room.

The man stood straight in a dignified manner and the woman who was probably his wife clasped her hands together. "Sorry to have kept you waiting for so long," she said politely when both Dante and Trish scrambled to their feet.

"It is quite all right," Dante replied quickly, looking at the sober looking woman and the rueful expression on her face.

"I am Margret and this is my husband, John," she introduced herself and her husband, who quickly shook hands with Dante. "I was the one who talked with you on the phone, Mr Dante."

"Yes, I remember," Dante said politely.

"Please." Margret gestured Dante to resume his sofa again.

"You know why we called you here," she began, straining her face. She was still reeling from the shock of her daughter's sudden death.

Dante remained silent, looking at the mother's face and then the father's. He couldn't understand where his mind was wondering. There was a familiar smell in the air, that same alluring smell.

_Has she been here?_ he asked himself, trying to concentrate through the haze of lust, wonder, and dreamy allure again.

"Have you found anything?"

The voice reached to Dante suddenly. He lifted his sharp greyish eyes, meeting the dark blue eyes of the woman. The face of that girl he had seen dumped next to the dumpster flashed in front of his eyes. It was a sudden, almost automatic thought, but he felt that she must have looked just like her daughter when she was her age.

"Nothing important, but," he paused clenching his jaws, his head was getting a little fuzzy again, "do you know anything that might help us?"

Margret's features changed; she looked devastated now. She shook her head a little and held back a sob that chocked her completely.

"I am sorry," Dante said, taking in lungful of air and began again, "we were not able to find anything from the postmortem reports, but I am sure you already know that."

"I…I …am…sorry," Margret barely managed between tiny controlled sobs. She clamped her hand over her trembling lips and quickly walked out of the room.

John's eyes followed her as she walked through the door, and then they returned back to Dante and Trish. "I apologize, but I can't be of much help. I was mostly away and…"

"I can understand," Dante said, getting to his feet. "I don't think your wife is in any position to tell me anything. I'll come by some other time."

"I will greatly appreciate it," the old man said, shaking Dante's hand.

Dante and Trish walked out of the manor and sauntered down the wavy path to the gate. The chill in the air was still heavy. Dante's warm breath lingered in the air like white wisps of smoke.

He slipped his hands in his rugged brown jeans. His long black coat hanging down a few inches above the ground. It was a bizarre fashion sense he had. He never even knew when and where he picked it up, but he always wanted to wear a coat over his limited wardrobe.

"That was weird," Trish said, walking sedately next to him.

"I don't think I would expect you to understand," Dante answered lightly, stepping out of the large Iron Gate that clanked shut behind them.

"What do you mean? And honestly, I was expecting you to at least question the father," she said, pulling up the zip of her sweater.

"Great, he is waving… Yes, you moron, bring the car around," Dante said to himself with a hint of annoyance in his voice at Enzo's energetic waves from across the street. "There are two things you refuse to understand. One, you are a demon."

Trish raised both her hands, pursing her lips again.

"No Trish let me finish," Dante said shaking his finger. "Two, what do you expect from a business man, who was hardly ever home? And lastly, at least dress a little not too much like a fashion-victim next time you decide to tag along. The way their eyebrows went up at your daring outfit, I was dreading they would throw you out, as you looked kind of out of place in the decent neighbourhood."

"That makes three, Dante." Trish rolled her eyes, and stepped away from the pavement as Enzo parked the car a little too close to them.

"Run me over, why don't you?" Dante directed an angry stare at Enzo, who sheepishly smiled and choked out something like sorry from the front seat of the car. "Good thing you finally learned to count. I am still reeling from shock the last time you handled the money," Dante said and stepped into the car, followed by the out-raged Trish.

# # # # # #

The ride home was quiet and peaceful, much quieter than Dante had expected. Trish had decided to shut up about the whole nasty manor incident, and if she remained quiet then Enzo had nothing worse to say. They both remained tight-lipped and silent.

Dante was happy by the time they made it back. Trish simply threw a couple of nasty swear words at him under her breath, and stormed out of his office without saying a lousy thank you for the dinner he bought for her along the way.

"This woman is so ungrateful," he said behind her, "no wonder my dad kicked the bucket. Or who knows, he filed for divorce and died through alimony."

The night came slowly and silently. The hookers came out on the streets as usual. The police had extended the curfew to two more hours after twelve am, so their business had finally begun to thrive after three long months of stand-still.

The flashy lights from love planet racked his room from one corner to another. Music from the night club blasted into his room from the open window. He walked up to it and snapped it shut. Yes, it was business at this part of the town as usual.

But Dante was tired today, so tired that he did not know why. Maybe it was because he had had one drink too many at the bar, or maybe because he pleasured himself with that unknown stripper behind the changing room. He just didn't care what the reason was. He just wanted to go to sleep.

So he dragged himself to his bed and fell in it in a sprawl, and the next thing he knew, he was fast asleep, disturbed by a sound, a voice, a sweet sweet warm voice of a woman. Its warmth snuck its way onto his bare torso.

"Dante," she said, somewhere from within his room. Maybe just a few feet away.

Dante opened his trembling eyes that refused to open from the burden of sleep pressing them down. The haze cleared from over them and he found himself looking at that woman who had urged him to take on this case… she was so beautiful … that is all that spun in his mind.

A shaft of moonlight travelling into his room struck her form. Her wild twisted hair in disarray upon her shoulders. In the glimpse of the moonlight her figure became visible from under the black silk. Her light brown nipples standing in the coldness surrounding her. Her whole body shone like light olives under that thin black layer of clothing. She looked away, and then turned her dark eyes at him again.

"Dante, will you," she said in a voice that sounded so distant, but he could see her clearly now, so very clearly.

Dante tried to get up, but his body held him down. He felt the bed sink a little, and then the next second felt the weight on his torso. She was sitting on his torso, one leg on each side. She slowly reached down, and grabbed her dress and began to slowly pull it up.

His eyes followed the silken dress as inch by inch she lifted it up, revealing just a little more of her. The dress slipped up her silky skin glowing in the darkness of the room. Lust had clasped him the moment he saw her, now it was narrowing down hard on him. Blood was rushing through his veins, and his heart was hammering in his chest. He could hear it pounding in his ears.

She slipped the gown off her body, revealing herself completely which was hazily visible under her gown only moments ago. Now the only think that covered her was a silk black underwear. She leaned in and whispered something.

Her breath fanned out on Dante's lips, but instead of rise in lust alone, a strange kind of hunger rose in him as well. His chest tightened and his heart fluttered in his chest as if something was pressing it from all sides.

Something tore itself out from inside him and before he got a chance to even touch her, she vanished like dispersing smoke in front of him, leaving behind a strange light glow of her eyes. That glow lingered for a second and then, it too disappeared like her. He shut his eyes from the searing pain tearing his body.

Dante's eyes flew open. He was breathing hard and his whole body was aching. He quickly sat up and felt his hands clench from pain. He lifted his right hand and saw his long nails retract back into his skin that looked torn and leathery. A couple of scales had pierced out of his skin, and he could see trickles of fine blood travel down his bare arm.

Slowly, drop by drop, blood plopped on his black jeans. Dante looked from his demonic transformation wounds to his nails that had completely travelled back into his skin. He wiped the sweat from his face, and fisted some hair. He had never transformed in his sleep before.

"Was…this a dream?" he whispered to himself and ran his eyes around the room. It was empty…

# # # # # #


End file.
